Spring Fever
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: "You know, I always knew the start of spring made people do strange things, but you saying thank you?" Merlin clucked his tongue, eyes shining with laughter as he did. "That might be something beyond Spring Fever; we should get you to see Gaius before dinner, just to be on the safe side."
**Special thanks to my friend Julie for beta-ing this bitch.**

 **Disclaimer:** Literally all I own rn is this _massive_ headache and I don't particularly _want_ to own it anymore so if anyone is looking to take it off my hands hmu.

* * *

 _Spring Fever_

* * *

*.*.*.*.*

The best and worst part about the snow melting and making way for warmer weather after long, harsh, cold, bitter winters, was what was otherwise known as Spring Fever. Everyone was antsy and wanted to get out and stretch their legs, and have a little fun, have a good time. They didn't want to work or train or go away for long periods of time or sit inside resting injuries or, well, anything smart or responsible. All they wanted to do was have a good time.

When he was younger, Arthur was the same, nothing but a naive prince who would give his knights and friends the okay to spend a day or two in the tavern, showing off and wooing young maidens in the town market or whatever else they felt like doing, just as long as Arthur went with them, it was all fine and good and they all got their kicks, got it out of their systems, and were good and hung over and back at training by the week's end.

It was just Spring Fever; it was just a good time, there had been no harm in it when he was younger.

But as the king, he understood well and good why this time of year always left his father absolutely _exasperated_ and in an awful mood if he caught Arthur and the knights slacking off for even half of a moment, let alone days on end as they were known to do; having a kingdom with all its knights running afoul and slacking off was _stressful_ and made Arthur feel twenty years older than he actually was. It was completely hypocritical of him to get upset with the knights when they didn't show up for training that first warm afternoon after an all too cold and awful winter, but God, he was mad _anyway_. He was mad at them for ditching without word to him of where they were going and what they doing—though he knew damn well where they were going and what they were doing, he'd been with them just the year before—and mad at himself for being mad at them and proving that he was growing away from his friends, even just the slightest bit, because of his new role as king.

He tried not to be mad at them, of course, tried to keep the tension from his jaw and shoulders as he went about his day but God, who could truly _blame_ him for being upset? Other than them and, well, _him_ just a year ago, of course, because that didn't count or matter at all.

At least Merlin hadn't abandoned him, he sighed to himself over dinner that night as Merlin sat his plate before him. Restless as he seemed to be that entire day, Arthur couldn't help but note, fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot, aimless in the way he wandered around and did things just to keep himself busy. He had been used to taking off and doing fun, stupid things after winter broke, too, after all, this was new for him, being without the knights, knowing they were off having the time of their lives while he was stuck around the castle with Arthur doing things that were necessary but _boring_. Training would have been good for both of them, but, well, there they were, hardly any training having been done between them because of the knights' absence and both of them feeling it.

But God, at least Merlin was still _there_.

"Would you _stop_ doing that?" Arthur asked, looking from his dinner to Merlin with a scowl on his face, the demand sharp on his tongue and breaking the sulking silence of the room that not even _Merlin_ had dared to break before. For all his fidgeting and restlessness, he had hardly said a word to Arthur that night, he noted suddenly, almost suspiciously. Clearly Merlin was up to something; he was never this quiet for _this_ long unless there was something going on inside that head of his, and when things were going on inside that head of his, he was usually up to no good.

"Stop _what_?" Merlin asked, incredulous and confused as he looked up from Arthur's wardrobe, the king's clothes strewn on his bed and clutched in Merlin's hands.

"Whatever you're doing there," Arthur waved in Merlin's direction with his fork. "What _are_ you doing, hm? You _just_ did the wash, if you're not careful, I'll make you do it again," he warned, though he knew that would be a welcome task for Merlin right about now, it would give him something to do, an excuse to leave Arthur's too stuffy room and move about; it was an awful, _awful_ chore he oft complained, but Arthur knew he would take it over doing nothing right now anyway.

"I'm organizing your clothes. I don't know _what_ you do to this when I leave for the night, but _this_ tunic should not be next to _those_ trousers. Honestly, it's like you're _trying_ to make my job harder," he clucked his tongue, chucking the tunic in question down to lay on the bed before he moved to rifle through the wardrobe some more.

"And you need to take _everything_ out of my wardrobe to organize them? You're just making a bigger mess of things," Arthur insisted, laying his fork down on his plate and standing up.

He walked over to Merlin, strides long and quick, happy to have a purpose instead of just sitting around and eating, and being boringly kingly. God, who wanted to be king during spring, anyway? There was no fun in sitting about all day and night while his knights abandoned him and left him to his paperwork and non-training.

"Sometimes you need to make a mess of things before you can clean it up. Trust me, it'll be fine; I know what I'm doing, Arthur, I've been doing it for years now, in case you forgot," Merlin snorted, and though his back was to Arthur, Arthur could still _see_ him roll his eyes at the very idea of Arthur questioning his expertise in this particular area of life.

"Bullshit," Arthur snapped as Merlin turned back around with another tunic in his hands, inspecting it for no reason at all, something of a grin hiding just under his faux contemplative look that made all Arthur's frustration and impatience come to a boiling point. "Give me that," he hissed, reaching out to take the tunic from Merlin, but the second his fingers touched the garment, Merlin's grip tightened and he went to yank it back out of Arthur's grasp. Arthur, both without thought _and_ with too much thought at once, yanked on it as well, knuckles turning white with the anger that made him grip tighter and _tighter,_ and tug harder and _harder_ against Merlin's grip and tug, a game between them that was full of everything that the day should not have been, and that realization only made Arthur pull and grip harder and tighter.

He _should_ have had it out of Merlin's grasp by now, he thought, teeth clenched and jaw tight, he was a warrior, he did more work than Merlin, trained harder than him or anyone else in the kingdom, snatching a piece of clothing away from his servant should have been the easiest task in the world for him. But Merlin probably knew that, and was probably making it so damn difficult somehow _just because_ he just had to be so goddamn difficult all the goddamn time.

"Let. go. Merlin."

"I'm trying to do my job, _you_ let go."

"It's my tunic, you let go."

"If you're not wearing it, you don't need it right now, you let go."

"I'm the king, I don't have to be wearing it to want it. You let go."

"No, you let go."

"No, you let go."

"No. _You_."

"No _you_."

"No, y—"

"Merlin, so help me, if you don't let go of it _right this second_ —"

"What—you'll sack me? I could use a day off anyway, the knights'll be off again tomorrow, you know, so at least I'll be able to join them before you change your mind and rehire me again."

"If you go off with them and leave me alone there'll be no changing my mind,"

"Gods, do you listen to yourself when you—"

Their argument and tugging was interrupted by a sickening _ripping_ sound that Arthur should have seen coming, that he _would_ have seen coming if he wasn't so utterly angry and frustrated and focused on Merlin. But he _didn't_ see it coming, so it ripped without warning and he fell backwards, half the garment still clutched in his hands as he hit his head on the edge of his bed and fell to the floor, vision clouding and blood rushing to his head as it pounded in a dull ache that was more from the shock and his anger than the impact of the fall.

He looked up in worry, eyes landing on Merlin who was now on the floor as well, back against the wardrobe and the other half of the garment in his hands. At least he wasn't hurt, Arthur thought, though the second he did, his ebbing anger came back for a moment, and he needed to decide whether he wanted to let it go or continue feeling it.

"I don't think I can fix this," Merlin murmured then, fingers playing at the ripped edge of it.

Arthur laughed then, and shook his head, the decision of what to do with his anger out of his own hands.

"You won't know until you try."

"Shut up, you prat," Merlin shook his head, throwing the torn garment down and hooking his hands together, stretching his arms above his head.

"Would you just… put everything away already? All my clothes do not need to be on my bed for you to move a shirt over a bit."

"They don't _need_ to be, but," Merlin shrugged, drew his legs up just enough so he could rest his elbows on his knees. "gives me something to do, doesn't it? You're not the only one used to being off with the knights, you know, and I'm not going to leave you by yourself tomorrow when they don't show up for training again but if _you're_ restless, just… remember that you're not the only one, yeah?"

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, leaning his head against his bed. He'd already known as much, God, he had already _known_ that Merlin had been just as restless as he was. Maybe things would be better the next day, he thought, with some of his frustration and restlessness gone from him that night, and guilt already slowly starting to eat away at him for this entire little incident that wasn't entirely his fault.

Maybe things would just be better the next day.

*.*.*.*.*

Or maybe _not_ , he thought to himself that very next day, teeth clenched as he swung his sword at a training dummy, Merlin standing nearby with his arms crossed as he watched with little curiosity or amusement as Arthur ruthlessly attacked the dummy.

He'd known, of course, that the knights wouldn't be at training that afternoon, had known not to expect them until the following day, but oh, that meant _nothing_ when he'd turned up at the training grounds anyway and no one had been there besides him and Merlin. He'd known that was how it was going to be but it still got to him.

So rather than leaving the training grounds to find something else to fill his time and leave his frustration to boil over later that night as it had the previous one, he took to training

Sort of.

It was much too reckless and chaotic to be _true_ training, his sword was cutting too rough and without purpose to be of any sort of use other than to get it out, but it was better to ruin a training dummy than another tunic.

"How long are you going to keep this up exactly?" Merlin asked, sighing as he did.

Arthur stepped back from the dummy, sword hanging low in his hands, breathless from the exertion of it as he glared at Merlin.

"I don't know, as long as it takes."

Merlin rolled his eyes at that response, eliciting an eyeroll from Arthur in turn.

"You knew that they weren't—"

"I know!" Arthur interrupted, swinging his body fully to face Merlin. In one quick movement, he thrust his sword into the ground and stepped up to Merlin. "I _know_ , alright? I know that I knew that they weren't going to be here and I know that any other year I wouldn't have been here either, but I don't have a choice this year, do I? And they're my brothers, I know they look forward to this time of year, but they're my _brothers_ , they're supposed to be there for me like we always are for each other! If it were any of them who couldn't go—" he shook his head, licked his lips in frustration before he continued, "If it were any of them, I wouldn't go and— _God_ , you _know_ that I wouldn't—"

"So why don't you just—" Merlin interrupted with a flourish of his hands. " _go_ find them, hm? Spend the afternoon doing what you normally do this time of year? You'll be less—" he gestured up and down Arthur's body. "—you won't feel like they've abandoned you, and you won't ruin any more of your clothes," he grinned cheekily at Arthur as he finished.

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, looked down at his hands as he removed his gloves.

"It won't be the same, I'd have to go find _them_ , it's different from them showing up to training and supporting me."

"Maybe they were expecting you to just… come join them, hm?" Merlin suggested, taking a step forward and bumping Arthur's chin up as Arthur let his gloves fall to the ground to join his sword with a soft thud. "You never needed an invitation before, did you? Never needed to go find them or wait for them to show up, you just _went_. Why's it so different now?"

"You _know_ why," Arthur sighed, voice still sharp all the same. "I can't just… disappear for days because the snow melted and the sun is out and I'm restless; I can't afford to just _do_ things like that anymore. And anyway," he cut his eyes at Merlin curiously, suspiciously. "why aren't _you_ off with them? You can't tell me _this_ is where you'd rather be."

"Ah but I _can_ ," Merlin disagreed, though Arthur strongly suspected for a moment that he was saying that just to say it, just to argue about it. "You know me, Arthur, you know that the last thing I'd want is for you to feel as though you're alone," he assured him, his tone softer and reminding Arthur of when he had last assured him of such similar sentiments, words echoing in an almost melancholic sort of way.

When Merlin didn't add anything further, Arthur nodded slightly, slowly, eyes widening ever so slightly. He licked his lips for a thoughtful moment and let out a sigh.

"Thank you, I, uhm—" he cut himself off, unsure what he wanted to say beyond that. What else _was_ there to say anyway?

"Yeah," Merlin nodded, squeezing at Arthur's chin as he did. "Yeah, uhm," he gave a half shrug and smile to match it. "You know, I always knew the start of spring made people do strange things, but you saying _thank you_?" Merlin clucked his tongue, eyes shining with laughter as he did. "That might be something _beyond_ Spring Fever; we should get you to see Gaius before dinner, just to be on the safe side."

"Shut up," Arthur replied, smiling slightly despite himself, more aware and focused on Merlin's fingers still on his chin than he probably needed to be out here on the training grounds. "I just meant… thank you for… not… abandoning me. I know you're restless too, and God do I wish there was something to hunt or someone to rescue so we could just go and _do_ something, but, well, I'm afraid there probably aren't any volunteers to put themselves in danger just to give us something to do," he finished somewhat apologetically.

"Gods, I wouldn't want to go hunting anyway," Merlin replied.

"What would _you_ wanna do then, hm? What would it take to make _Mer_ lin less restless?" he asked, half teasing, half serious.

" _Well…_ " Merlin's eyes left Arthur's and went skyward in thought instead for a fraction of a moment before they came back to Arthur's, and something of a sly grin was suddenly painted onto his face.

Before Arthur could ask what that was all about, Merlin's fingers were leaving Arthur's chin for his cheek instead, taking to cupping instead of squeezing or holding, and Arthur had to wonder for a moment if this was all because of Spring Fever, or if it was something Merlin had been thinking about and wanting for quite a while, the same as Arthur had been.

Merlin's lips met his own before he could come to a conclusion either way, and he decided maybe it didn't _really_ matter, not when given the choice between contemplating it further and kissing Merlin back, and _God_ , kissing Merlin back was his _highest_ concern and priority just then, damn the reasoning behind _why_ it was happening.

Merlin barely pulled back before Arthur was chasing after him for another kiss, not finished with Merlin or this moment just yet, arms finally moving to wrap around Merlin, to ground them both in this moment and this kiss and the way their lips were moving against each other, everything too sweet and charged and flushed _not_ to be happening right here and now on the training grounds.

When Merlin pulled back that time, after some moments that left Arthur feeling hotter and more breathless than he was sure actual training ever did, Arthur let him, deciding that he would probably get to do that again anyway, so it was fine to allow a breath and a beat to pass this time.

Huffing, Merlin untangled himself from Arthur's grasp, mouth parted ever so slightly in a way that made Arthur want nothing more than to reach out to pull him back for another kiss, though he _did_ resist the urge. Somehow.

"Feeling less restless?" Arthur murmured, tone teasing and low.

Merlin snorted, "God no. But I think I have an even better idea to help _both_ of us with our problem," he was quick to add, flashing Arthur a flirtatious, knowing grin.

Without another word, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and began tugging him away from the training grounds, and Arthur didn't even need to _ask_ what he was doing or where they were going, the memory of that kiss all the answer he needed to what Merlin had in mind. And maybe it wouldn't bring the knights to training that day, and it wouldn't fix Arthur's tunic, but if nothing else, it would at least help to ease the edge and frustration and restlessness that Arthur felt because of Spring Fever.

Though what he was going to do to ease the effects of Merlin fever when they were out and about doing something else and all Arthur would want was Merlin's kiss or touch was a problem he could deal with later.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
